


Unfurling

by definitelynotmayshepard



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bossy Martin, If You Personally Are Lucky Enough to Have a Fling of This Nature Do Use a Condom, Inspired by that One Interview They Did Together, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Obedient Seth and Paul, RPF, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6816802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelynotmayshepard/pseuds/definitelynotmayshepard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: The following is a wild extrapolation based on what I'm sure is a perfectly innocent set of coincidences and unintentional squirming that occurred on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H638I0c_1uA">the Graham Norton show in late April 2016</a>. I have no wish to imply that anyone involved who happens to have the same names as the people in this fictional work actually did these things. If any of the parties named herein ever encounters this, hi! You should probably stop reading now, even though I've made all of you look very adorable and hot. </p><p>How to best enjoy this fic: watch the interview first, then read this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfurling

Paul fidgeted through the last few minutes of the Graham Norton interview. It seemed like a success for everyone on the couch: Maxine on the far end, Martin, who sat on Paul's left, and Seth, to his right. As the girl who was this week's musical guest started singing, Paul took the opportunity to relax a little, and review what everyone had said. It was all pretty good, he thought, funny and fun and smart.

They'd talked about penises a lot.

Seth had started with his bit about the dildo, Martin had told that wanking anecdote, and Paul had ended the show, and possibly future career options, with that story about exposing himself on the set of _Ant Man_. It was all fun sex talk, flirty and lighthearted and titillating (he hoped) for the audience. At the same time, for reasons that had to remain totally private, that particular theme had kept him on the edge of arousal throughout the whole thing, especially whenever Martin spoke.  

Seth shifted minutely, his knee pressing briefly into Paul's thigh, the touch a promise that no matter what happened, Paul wouldn't have to be alone tonight. To Paul's left, Martin moved away, leaving the distance between them stretched and cold.

It was funny, how life worked. Of all the people he could have been booked with, these two particular men were both a worst and best case scenario, guaranteed to make Paul maximally self-conscious. He'd been exquisitely aware, all through the interview, of the long, warm history he'd shared with Seth, and the much more recent, brief experiences he'd had with Martin, just the summer before. He was torn in two directions: comfort, ease, and simple affection on the one hand, and searing lust on the other.

Martin had definitely flirted: placing his hand on Paul's knee, more than once; the way he'd asked for Paul to hand him his wine glass, a little bossy, his voice more than a little throaty. Their fingers had touched, as Paul handed the glass over, Martin's index finger stroking the back of Paul's hand: a sign, a signal, acknowledgement. No coincidence, surely.

It was something. It might be everything.

Finally, it was time for the end credits. Paul swallowed against his nerves, his stomach rolling, as he wondered how he could arrange to ask Martin back to the hotel, and whether he would manage to work himself up to it. The crowd applauded and cheered.

Martin leaned over and purred in his ear. "It was very good to see you."  

Paul smiled, blinking hard as he tried to suppress his excitement. He leaned over to talk to Seth, pressing a palm over the microphone clipped to his shirt, to make sure no one else could hear.

"I think we're on for tonight."

"Really?" Like he always did when he heard good news, Seth pulled his chin back, smiled and raised his eyebrows, like he simply couldn't believe his luck.

Seth of course knew everything, had listened to Paul rave about how wonderful Martin was, when Paul returned from filming _Civil War_. He'd been really good about it. There wasn't much room for jealousy in what he and Seth had together. It was all about affection and love and stolen moments. Still, they were only human, and Paul felt kind of bad about how much time he'd spent describing everything he and Martin had done. If he could manage to share Martin with Seth, he hoped that would pay back some of Seth's patience.

Paul's time with Martin had been stolen too, but affection and love weren't really a part of it. Paul wasn't sure how he would describe his feelings for Martin. It was undifferentiated emotion, a sense that Martin had shifted him somehow, taken him apart on a deep internal level.  

Now, as the audience applauded, Paul risked slipping his arm around Seth's shoulders. Totally safe. Bros being bros. They'd already joked about being intimate. They were comfortable enough with their masculinity to be physically friendly. No big deal.

But it was a big deal. Paul squeezed Seth's arm as he leaned in. "I can't wait to see how he handles both of us," he whispered in Seth's ear, feeling Seth shudder as Paul's beard tickled him. He'd let it grow to near lumberjack proportions on purpose. The last time they'd been together, they'd both been clean-shaven, and Seth had wondered aloud what it would be like to have a guy with a really full beard go down on him.

Paul was all too eager to help Seth figure it out. When Seth had come to his dressing room before the show, all shy looks and polite questions, Paul had been thrilled to see that Seth had grown a beard too.

Finally it was time to say goodbye, to leave Graham and shuffle backstage and sort themselves out.

"I'll see you back at the hotel," Paul told Seth. They'd each taken a room in the same place, although they'd planned to use only one of them.

"Good luck." Seth raised his eyebrows, and headed for the exit.

Martin came through the studio door a few moments later, moving down the narrow hallway to his dressing room. Paul tried to pretend he was just in the process of heading for his own room. He elbowed Martin and passed off a note he'd scrawled hastily on a scrap of paper: the name of the hotel, his room number, and the words _please join us_.

Martin glanced down at it, and nodded grimly. "Nice meeting you," he said, and stuck out his hand for Paul to shake.

Paul did, amazed, as he'd been months before, to find Martin's grip like iron. A thrill ran through him. Martin met his gaze, looking up at Paul through his yellow tinted glasses. Jesus. Everything was there in that look: the ability to make Paul do whatever Martin wanted; the cool, steady authority that Paul craved. Paul struggled to return the gaze with a warm smile, but he found himself simply reduced.

Martin released his hand, clapped him on the shoulder, and pushed on down the hallway to his dressing room.

***

Paul had given Seth a key card to his hotel room, but Seth knocked anyway. When Paul opened the door, Seth raised his hand in greeting, his other hand shoved in his pocket, always the shy boy.

"Hey," he said, as he stepped inside.

"He's not here yet," Paul said. The _yet_ was a bit optimistic. Martin hadn't exactly said yes.  

"Oh, okay." As the door swung shut behind him, Seth stepped forward and pulled Paul into his arms. He held on for a while, seeming to know, as he always did, exactly what Paul needed. Paul was burning with anticipation, wondering if Martin would let him down. As he relaxed into Seth's embrace, he checked himself. He and Seth always had a great time together. Even if it was just the two of them tonight, it would be amazing.

Seth backed out of the hug enough to look Paul in the face. He touched Paul's beard, and giggled in that perfect, husky, back-of-the-throat way that made him sound like a filthy teenager. Paul had heard that laugh in a hundred different circumstances, and he always found it charming.

"I can't believe you grew that," Seth said, wandering into the room and looking through the bottles of beer Paul had on ice.

"I had to. I knew I was going to see you," Paul said. "And okay, while we're on the topic, what about you, huh?"

Seth touched his own neatly trimmed beard and shrugged, making a sound that roughly translated to "I don't know." He laughed and shook his head, smiling down at the bottle he'd decided to open.

The two of them were ridiculous, Paul decided, waiting for their idol to show up.

"I still can't believe you slept with him," Seth said. "Him! Man, that's amazing. He's like, so British."

"Classy," Paul said. "I think that's the word you're looking for."

"With a capital K." Seth giggled again.

A knock sounded at the door. The two of them looked at each other with their mouths open in shock, surprise, delight.

"Who could it be?" Seth said.

"I don't know!" Paul joked, in exaggerated tones, even as he realized how grateful he was for Seth's presence. Things between him and Martin had been so intense last summer, and punishingly brief. He'd never had someone order him around so firmly. It had gotten under his skin, and turned into a need, before he'd had time to notice it.

He opened the door. Martin leaned against the frame, wearing the same suit he'd worn for the interview. He tilted his head, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. "Invite me in."

Paul stepped back to make way for him, all seriousness now that Martin was really here.

"You didn't say he was a vampire," Seth joked.

Paul looked at him and smiled, but the joke was lost as Martin came up behind him and slid his hand down to cup Paul's ass, no time wasted. Paul's eyes drifted shut as Martin pressed his lips to Paul's ear.

"We've only just now met," he said, repeating the lie Paul had conspicuously told at the beginning of the interview. They hadn't talked about pretending they didn't know each other. Paul just figured it would be simpler, and when it came down to it, they'd both lied. "Aren't you a clever boy?"

Paul tried to respond, but all that came out was a throaty gasp.

"You were awfully dirty," Martin continued, growling in Paul's ear. "Telling that story about having your dick out in public."

Seth's eyebrows shot up and he sat down on the bed, hands folded in his lap, as if he didn't know what to do with them.

"You can talk," Paul said. "Masturbation on set."

Martin ran his hand up into Paul's hair, taking hold of it and pulling Paul's head back. "What?"

"Sorry," Paul said, as Martin pulled a little harder, and the thrill of being told off ran through him. He was panting already, the sensation of Martin's warm breath on the side of his neck loosening his joints. He eyed Martin and grinned, cheeky as he put on a terrible English accent. "Wanking."

"Oh. That's how you want this to be." Martin released his hold on Paul's hair, placed a hand in the centre of Paul's back, and shoved him toward the bed. Paul sat down hard next to Seth, who rushed to put his beer bottle down on the floor.

Martin wasted no time stepping toward the two of them. He caressed the side of Paul's face, then turned his attention on Seth. Paul was helpless to do anything but watch as Martin's lip curled, and he leaned down to grasp Seth's shoulder.

"Now you," he said. He tipped his head toward Paul. "I know he knows how to behave, given a little reminder or two, but I don't know a thing about you. Can you listen? Will you do as I say?"

Seth watched Martin, as frozen as any mouse caught by a cat. Paul realized he was holding his breath, and he exhaled evenly. He knew how Seth felt about being told what to do, at least in theory: he liked the idea of it as much as Paul did. When the two of them were together, they talked about it, about how hot it was, although neither of them were capable of being truly bossy in bed. The one time Paul had tried ordering Seth to suck his dick, they'd both burst out laughing.

Now Seth closed his eyes as Martin rubbed his thumb against Seth's lower lip. "Does he talk?" Martin asked.

"Yes," Paul managed.

"Seth, will you do as I say?"

"Uh, yes," Seth said, his tone dreamy. "Yes, Sir."

Martin chuckled, low in the back of his throat. When he spoke again, his voice came out husky and warm. "I like that. I like that very much indeed."

He walked away from them, leaving Paul and Seth sitting on the edge of the bed like a couple of boys who'd been caught doing something naughty at school. Martin removed his jacket and draped it over the back of the armchair in the corner. He loosened his tie as he sat. Methodically, he untied his shoes and removed them, then undid the top three buttons of his shirt. He glanced at Paul, his expression neutral as he removed his watch, placing it on the small table to his left.

He'd scratched Paul with that watch, last summer, on the side of the neck. The scratch had been difficult for makeup to cover, and hard for Paul to explain when he went home.

"Get me a drink, Seth."

Seth sprang up off the bed, moving to the table where the glasses and booze sat. Paul watched with curiosity as Martin eyed Seth, wondering what Martin saw in him. A younger man ripe for training, maybe.

"Whiskey?" Seth asked, holding up a glass.

"Mm. With ice."

Martin looked at Paul again, his eyes combing over him from head to toe. Paul searched for any sign that Martin wanted him, him specifically, and not just the thrill of an adventure with the two of them. He felt a slow desperation building, a need to know what Martin thought of the time they'd spent together the previous summer.

At the same time, he thought, as he watched Seth hand Martin his drink, he might never find out. This kind of encounter never seemed like it carried much emotional weight. It was too ephemeral for anything more than raw physical expression.

Martin tasted the whiskey, and set it down on the table beside him, holding Seth in place with a finger and thumb on Seth's wrist.

"Come here," Martin said, patting the ottoman and placing his feet back down on the floor, directing Seth to sit in front of him.

Martin shifted to the edge of the chair, and pulled Seth toward him, their knees pressing together. Without another word he took Seth's face in his hands, leaned in, and kissed him on the mouth.

"Oh," Seth managed, before Martin kissed him again.

Martin ran his hand down Seth's chest, and lifted the hem of his shirt. "Take this off."

Paul moved further up onto the bed, sitting on it cross-legged as he watched Martin strip his friend down. Paul was growing hard, but he resisted the urge to touch himself. Even now, Martin watched him, eyes on Paul as he kissed Seth ardently. A warning. Paul had touched himself without permission once last summer, and Martin had kept him on the verge of orgasm for an hour and a half, as punishment.

If that were to happen now, after all the anticipation and uncertainty, he wasn't sure he could handle it.

"On your feet," Martin said to Seth, finally breaking their embrace. "Take your jeans off."

Paul shifted uncomfortably, a little sorry for Seth as he stripped down. Martin slipped a finger under the waistband of Seth's underpants and tugged, pulling them down to Seth's ankles so he could step out of them. Seth was self-conscious about his looks, and now he was the only one naked, his sizeable dick half erect, his cheeks red as he looked down at the floor where his jeans sat crumpled at Martin's feet.

"Now you," Martin said, taking Seth's hand and kissing it, "need to remember that you're here because we want you. Isn't that right, Paul?"

Paul nodded, feeling his cheeks flush at hearing his name on Martin's lips. "Yes," he said, a little too urgently. "God. Of course."

"Now go undress your friend," Martin said, releasing Seth.

Paul scrambled to the edge of the bed as Seth moved toward him. With his back turned to Martin, Seth allowed his surprise to show on his face, his eyebrows lifting as he blinked rapidly.

"Should we—should you stand?" he murmured at Paul.

Martin cleared his throat. "You have a question?"

"Uh," Seth laughed. He did that when he was turned on. Paul loved it. He wasn't sure how Martin would take it. "Yeah. Sir. Should he stand?"

"If you like."

Paul got to his feet, his hands shaking, his whole body aching to touch Seth, for someone to touch him, for anything. He closed his eyes, and waited for Seth to take his clothes off, knowing that Martin preferred for him to keep to the letter of what he'd said.

Seth started to unbutton his shirt, his body close to Paul, Paul aware of every inch of Seth's body, the softness of his skin, his fingers working Paul's buttons, the softness of his belly, his hard dick prodding Paul's leg through his jeans. Paul breathed a little more slowly as Seth slid his hands underneath his shirt, pulling it down his arms, standing that much closer, so their chests touched.

"Easy," Martin said. "Trousers."

The ice in his whiskey glass tinkled. Paul glanced over at him. Martin smiled ruefully and gave Paul a little nod. Doing all right, then.

Paul's mind was going offline. He could feel it. Just that one small hint of approval and everything was singing, everything concentrating down to this small, significant moment. Time slowed. Paul's breath steadied. Seth opened his fly and helped him step out of his pants, taking his underwear with them.

The two of them were naked now, both hard and flushed. The tease of standing so close to Seth, with Martin looking on, was enough to make Paul tremble. Together, they waited for Martin's next word.

"Paul, Seth wants you to kiss him. Do it. Be gentle."

Seth's giggle turned into a low moan in his throat as Paul reached for him, resting his hands on Seth's shoulders.

They'd kissed many times before, but not because they'd been ordered to, not because they were being watched over by this short-statured powerhouse of a man. Paul only hoped that Seth was as into it as he was.

"I never thought we'd have the Hobbit telling us what to do," Seth murmured, his voice low, his laugh as infectious as it always was.

"What was that?" Martin said, using the same vexed tone he'd had when he'd made fun of them for drinking during his part of the interview. Paul gasped, his dick twitching. The way Martin spoke set his whole nervous system on fire. It wasn't that Martin sounded angry. It was the evenness of his tone, the measure in his voice, completely calm, totally in control of the situation. Totally in control of them.

"I asked you a question," Martin said. "Seth? What did you say?"

This was a defining moment. Seth would either play the game, or make a joke of it, and drop out. Sure, Seth had talked about wanting someone to tell him what to do, and he'd done okay so far, but he was untested. Paul met Seth's gaze, and gave him a half smile.

"Nothing, Sir." Seth glanced over at Martin, then down at the floor. "I didn't mean to say anything."

For several long, attenuated seconds, Martin was silent. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Paul, kiss him."

Seth's shoulders dropped a couple of inches. He'd been holding his breath. Paul realized he'd been holding his, too. Seth looked into Paul's eyes, his expression all relief, as Paul wrapped a hand around the back of Seth's neck, and drew him in for a deep kiss. Seth closed the distance between them, his chest and belly pressing into Paul's, their lips coming together as their beards rubbed and tangled. Seth opened his mouth against Paul's, and their tongues met, tentative and slow. Paul pulled back, dick throbbing, body burning for more.

Seth tangled his fingers in Paul's beard, took hold of it, and pulled. "This is weird," he said.

Paul's eyes fluttered shut. The tugging sensation reminded him of exactly how talented Seth's fingers could be. He'd never had anyone pull on his beard before, but Seth had pulled his hair many times. Martin had too, but much, much harder.

"Why didn't you shave it for him, if you knew you were going to see him?" Martin asked, sounding genuinely curious. "You both grew beards. What's that about?"

Paul turned to look at Martin, the answer on his lips, but he stumbled over the explanation, all incoherent noise.

Martin lounged in the chair, feet up, looking as comfortable as if he were in his own living room. He watched Paul as Seth nuzzled the side of his neck, then reached down and palmed his cock through his suit trousers. He was so lovely, ridiculously self-possessed. Paul was so caught up in raw need, he couldn't speak.

"I wanted him to," Seth said, almost under his breath.

"You did? Why?"

Seth's speech slowed as he reached for exactly the right words. "Well, I've never had a dude with a full beard go down on me. I thought it might feel good."

"And why did you grow one?"  

"Paul's a good friend, and I thought he might be growing this for me. And maybe I wondered if I should return the favor. Sir."

Martin cleared his throat. "Well, you want to know what it feels like. I think it's time you find out. Go on then, Paul. Since you went to all that trouble. On your knees." 

Paul's gaze lingered on Martin as a hundred increasingly filthy thoughts buzzed through his mind, about what Martin would do to him, when it was time, if Martin decided it was time. Seth trembled, a needy sigh sounding in his throat.

Paul blinked down at Seth's dick, the flushed length of it standing out from Seth's sandy brown thatch. He dropped to his knees and leaned into Seth's thigh, rubbing his bearded cheek against Seth's hip, hands on the soft fleshiness of his belly as he licked him from base to tip.

Paul always liked this part, when Seth started panting with anticipation. He moved slowly, not quite teasing. He touched his lips to Seth's head, then opened his mouth just enough to take him in. Seth groaned, holding Paul by the shoulders, obviously restraining himself. Paul shifted forward, taking more of him, grasping Seth's hips so he could pull him in to just where he wanted him, his beard brushing against Seth's thighs.

"Oh my God, that's so weird!" Seth laughed.

"Bad?" Martin asked.

Paul sucked on Seth's head, then pulled him in again. He relaxed the back of his throat so he could take Seth a little deeper, and press his beard against Seth's legs.

"God, no, not bad, no, it's good. It's so good."

Seth could barely draw breath. He always came like a rocket after just a little bit of oral, Paul had found. A few more passes and he would be thrusting into Paul's mouth.

"Slow down," Martin growled from his place in the corner. "Slow right down. He can't come yet. What would be the fun in that?"

"Oh, God," Seth moaned.

Paul paused, conflicted. He'd never had the heart to hold Seth back from orgasm. It seemed too cruel, and besides, Seth was fully capable of coming twice in an hour. Paul stopped sliding up and down Seth's length, but he sucked hard, tonguing him vigorously, trying not to torture him too much.

"I'm serious," Martin said. "Slow the fuck down, or you won't get anything from me."

Paul dragged his lips slowly as he withdrew, unable to resist a final swirl of his tongue as he pulled off.

"Slow down, or stop?" he said, unable to look at Martin, with Seth's dick right there, waiting to be sucked, and Seth above him, clearly dying for him to keep going.

"What did I say?" Martin asked. "Slow."

Paul glanced up at Seth, who was looking down at him with a grin that was pure disbelief, his eyes hazy with pleasure, his face flushed. "Do what the man says," he told Paul. "Sounds to me like he has a plan."

Paul closed his eyes and made love to Seth with his mouth languorously, licking stripes up his dick until it was harder than hell and Seth was groaning above him, his legs shaking hard. It wasn't nearly enough to send him over the edge, but he'd been close for the better part of three or four minutes. Paul couldn't help but think it was getting a little bit mean, and hard— _difficult_ , his brain supplied, _difficult_ —to take, because Paul was also aching, dripping onto the carpet, his body on fire, the need to be touched and held and stroked and fucked getting more intense by the second.

"All right, that's enough," Martin said.

For a dizzying moment, Paul was certain that Martin meant they should stop altogether, that the evening was over. He imagined, wildly, that he would have to run to the bathroom and jerk himself off before his desperation killed him.

"Seth, get Paul onto the bed. On all fours."

Paul blinked and stopped what he was doing.

"Oh—okay," Seth agreed, voice shaky.

"Point his head toward the headboard. I want to be able to see everything."

"Okay."

Paul scrambled to kneel on the bed. "Like this?" He needed to hear Martin praise him as much as he needed hands and mouths on him.  

"Mm. Hands on the headboard, I think. Seth, separate his knees. Paul, lean forward."

Paul complied, all too eagerly.

"Seth, spread him open. I want to see."

Seth's hands caressed Paul's buttocks, smoothing over the muscle, and pulled them apart. "Like that?" Seth said. They both trembled, waiting for Martin's judgment.

"Mm, exactly like that." Martin's voice was lower, more gravelly than it had been just a moment ago. Paul closed his eyes. He could feel Martin's arousal from all the way across the room. Soon, he hoped, Martin wouldn't be able to resist coming over here and touching them both, touching him.

"How do you feel about rimming?" Martin asked.

Paul couldn't help himself: he laughed, the sound barking out of him.

"Problem?" Martin's voice was cool.

"No," Paul said.

"I like it," Seth rushed to say. His hands massaged Paul's lower back, circling down to spread him open again. "I—I'll do it. I want to."

"Ask permission."

Paul's dick leaked, the tip dragging across a pillow.

"Can I?" Seth asked.  

Nothing but silence came from the chair in the corner. "Try again," Paul hissed.

Seth spoke tentatively. "Sir, I would really like to put my tongue and mouth in and around Paul's asshole. Can I do that? Please?"

Paul held perfectly still. Even when he was being completely respectful, Seth could sound sarcastic. It was something in his tone. They'd talked about it and joked about it. He could only hope that Martin understood.

Martin let out a brief burst of laughter. "Yes. Go ahead."

The first contact of Seth's lips with the crack of Paul's ass felt like pure mercy. He shuddered and moaned into the headboard, his dick jumping against the pillows. Seth wasted no time in pressing his tongue to Paul's hole, fondling his balls as he licked into him, wave after wave, unrelenting. And his beard, that beard, a coarse friction against his cleft as Seth probed deeper and deeper, sending up a host of new sensations wherever it brushed and rubbed against him.

They'd been together so many times, Seth certainly knew how desperate Paul was. Like Paul, Seth had no taste for prolonging things. Seth made needy noises as he licked and sucked. Each moan brought Paul closer to the tipping point. He groaned incoherently and thrust forward, seeking just enough contact and friction to ground him.

He knew he should wait for whatever Martin wanted them to do next, but he was losing control of himself. He felt like he was floating, on the verge of an out of body experience, and it was amazing, but way too much at the same time. He needed to move, to stroke himself, or have someone else touch him. Seth was relentless, worshipping Paul with his tongue, pressing into him, withdrawing just enough to insert a finger. Paul bucked forward and back, riding Seth's finger and pushing his dick into the space between two pillows.

Suddenly there was another set of hands on him, holding his hip and shoulder, preventing him from moving. He glanced to the side, gasping. Martin had rolled up his shirt sleeves, but he was still fully clothed. "Hold still," he said. "Just wait. It will be worth it." His voice was dark and quiet. He stroked a hand across Paul's back, making him arch into the touch, and hiss.

Paul stilled as Martin nudged Seth aside. "Paul, move back," Martin said, as he left them once more and crossed the room. Paul shimmed away from the headboard on his knees. "I want you on the floor," Martin said, his voice low and dangerous.

He pushed the ottoman over, next to the bed. "Seth, sit." Seth slid off the bed and settled on the ottoman, a low giggle in his throat, his face still wet with his own saliva.

Martin kneeled on the bed, and took Paul's hand. He leaned in and kissed Paul on the forehead. "God, look at you. You're gagging for it, aren't you?"

Paul flushed red, his cheeks burning as Martin pulled him into a kiss. Martin sighed softly as he held the back of Paul's head, pressing his lean, fully clothed body into Paul's naked form. The tip of Paul's dick rubbed against the front of Martin's trousers.

Martin drew his mouth close to Paul's ear. "I'm going to fuck you so sweetly." His hand drifted down to caress Paul's hip.

Martin moved off the bed, leading Paul down to the floor. "Kneel in front of Seth," he told him.

Paul scrambled to comply, heart pounding.

While he waited for Martin to position himself, Paul ran his hands up Seth's legs, admiring the thick redness of his dick. Paul hoped Martin would tell him to take it into his mouth again. He couldn't wait.

He watched over his shoulder as Martin threw a pillow from the bed down on the floor behind him, and kneeled on it. Martin produced a container of lube from his pocket, and squeezed some onto his fingers.

"All right," Martin said. "I think you know what to do. Use your mouth."

"Easy," Seth said. "I don't think it's going to take me very long."

Martin's fingers slid between Paul's buttocks, and breached him. Paul moaned as he pushed back onto them.

"Me neither," he said, leaning forward and licking a stripe up the length of Seth's dick, as Martin stroked deeper into him.

"God, you're so open," Martin growled. "Seth did so much for you already. I hope you're planning to return the favor."

Paul took Seth's head into his mouth, relaxed his throat, and slid as far down as he could. Martin continued to fuck Paul with his fingers, long and slow and relentless.

"I hope you're ready for me, Paul. I hope you're planning to concentrate, because Seth deserves to come as hard as you're going to."

Paul had never felt as ready as he did in that moment. He made a needy sound in his throat as he plunged down Seth's length again. Seth moaned and spread his legs, his head falling back. Seth's panting, and the wet slide of Paul's mouth were the only sounds in the room for a long moment, until they were joined by the klink of Martin's belt buckle and the sound of his fly unzipping.

Paul closed his eyes and focused on the task of moving his hand and mouth rhythmically over Seth, nearly undone by the sensation of Martin's clothed thighs settling against the backs of his legs, and the warm firmness of Martin's cock pressing up against his hole.

"Oh my God," Seth said, as Paul paused to suck at his head. "Oh my God, Paul, I wish you could see this."

Martin groaned and grasped Paul's hip, pulling him back onto his cock, inch by inch, cleaving him open. Paul pulled off Seth, gasping for breath as Martin pushed the rest of the way in. Paul stroked Seth with his hand as the three of them moaned and panted together, the moment caught and held, beyond words.

When Martin began to move, Paul's breath grew more even. He buzzed, alive and complete, finally getting what he'd craved and missed, since the last time he and Martin had been together. He swallowed Seth down with a purpose, finally allowed to go as hard as he wanted. Martin wasted no time establishing a rhythm, a slow pull and deep thrust that set off Paul's prostate like a fire alarm.

For a few long moments, there was only this, the wet slide of Martin's cock, seeking Paul's core; Seth's moans and shaking hands as they settled in Paul's hair; and Paul, caught in the middle between taking and giving pleasure, perfectly filled, perfectly content, moving irrevocably toward a conclusion he wished he could prolong, but knew he could not.

When it shifted, the whole beautiful dance crashed in on itself in a matter of seconds. Seth gave a warning tug on Paul's hair, and groaned, his breath hitching. Paul took his mouth from Seth's dick and watched as Seth gushed out over his fist, a noise like a laugh bubbling up from deep inside him. Martin picked up his rhythm, snapping his hips faster, hitting just the right place again and again. He plunged into Paul and held him firm, fingers digging into his hips, come bursting hot and wet inside him. Finally, Martin leaned over Paul's back and wrapped his hand around Paul's aching cock. Three pulls, and Paul was coming all over the carpet, warm and finished and totally fulfilled. 

They stayed there, as they grew quiet and still. Paul rested his cheek on Seth's thigh. He was shaking, his muscles played out. He wanted to sprawl on the floor, but Martin's softening cock was still inside him, Martin's hand still holding him close, hooked around his hip, the other running up and down the length of his back and into his hair. Paul smiled. Martin rarely showed affection, but when he did, it was precious.

Finally Martin pulled out, and moved away. Paul kneeled on his heels as Seth stroked his hair. Behind him, came the sound of Martin's zip and belt, then the tinkle of ice as he finished his drink, the soft thunk of the glass as he placed it on a side table.

Paul watched as Martin pulled on his suit jacket, and sat to put on his shoes. Paul felt like a disshevelled mess, like he'd just run a marathon, but Martin looked as composed as if he'd only stopped by for a drink and a chat.

He smiled at the two of them as he sat forward in the chair. "That was lovely," he said. He nodded at Paul. His eyes danced, mischievous, betraying his appearance of total composure. He licked his lips. "I'll see you again soon."

Seth and Paul remained silent as Martin stood, straightened his jacket, and left the room.

"Holy shit," Seth said, a long while after the door closed. "I can see why you love that guy."

Under any other circumstances, Paul would deny it. He loved his friends, especially the ones willing to fuck him, but Martin was different. What they had was totally new and utterly, beautifully confusing. It didn't seem like love, but it probably was.

Martin had changed things. Martin had changed him.

"Yeah," he said, eyeing the door and wishing Martin would come back through it. He ran his fingers over Seth's ankle. "Yes."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Cover Art] for Unfurling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6821824) by [IamJohnLocked4art (IamJohnLocked4life)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamJohnLocked4life/pseuds/IamJohnLocked4art)




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